


Strangle

by the_ragnarok



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Asphyxiation, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Of course I can fucking trust you,” Pete says, voice gone a little raspy. Patrick isn’t entirely happy with what that tone’s doing to his dick. “You’re you. Do you think there’s anyone else I could trust to strangle me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangle

It’s not the first time he’s strangled Pete. Phrases like  _He was asking for it_ make Patrick twitch, reminiscent of high school assholes who’d earnestly explain that whatever kid had  _earned_  that swirly. _  
_

Although God knows, if ever someone had earned a swirly, it was Pete fucking Wentz, who thought it was actually funny to draw _I love bad boyz_  on Patrick’s underwear in red lipstick.

This was different, though. It wasn’t about earning, or deserving, or about anger. It was careful and controlled, barely even forceful, just the circle of Patrick’s hands around Pete’s neck.

Pete’s hand is clutching Patrick’s arm, hanging on for dear life. His eyes are huge, and his mouth is wet from the half-dozen times he’d licked it before asking Patrick to do this.

"You don’t have any sense at all, do you," Patrick says, conversationally, his grip on Pete’s neck twitching tighter and letting go minutely. Pete can’t answer him like this. It’s kind of relaxing, not having to plan his words around Pete’s constant verbal diarrhea. "You’re seriously letting someone choke you, no way to call for help, no way to stop them, and for what? An orgasm? That’s worth it to you?"

Pete can’t reply, but he can, it turns out, roll his eyes and then narrow them at Patrick.

Well, of course Patrick researched the shit out of this before he agreed. Unlike some people, he’s capable of forethought. But that doesn’t mean Pete can—

Pete taps Patrick’s hand with his free arm. Patrick lets go. “Of course I can fucking trust you,” Pete says, voice gone a little raspy. Patrick isn’t entirely happy with what that tone’s doing to his dick. “You’re  _you_. Do you think there’s anyone else I could trust to strangle me?”

"You shouldn’t trust anyone to do this," Patrick says, a little bitter. His heart’s hammering in his chest for all the wrong reasons. There’s a visible pulse beating in Pete’s neck and Patrick’s eyes gravitate there with every twitch of skin.

Pete smiles. Not his big media smile, nor his wicked I’m-so-wasted smile. Something small, and quiet the way nothing about Pete ever is, not until you get to know him. He shrugs with one shoulder. “Gotta have some danger in our lives.”

Putting his hands back on Pete’s neck doesn’t feel dangerous at all, though. To Patrick, it feels just right, just like home.


End file.
